


Residuum

by ephemerall



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, mild PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:57:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5293736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerall/pseuds/ephemerall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one thought they would end up here. To be honest, most (all) of them figured they'd be dead by this time.  Those first few days, when the war against Ozai was won and everyone celebrated, were easy.  There wasn’t enough time to mourn, to grieve while they were still taking stock in what winning this war meant for the world and the Fire Nation alike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Residuum

No one thought they would end up here. To be honest, most (all) of them figured they'd be dead by this time. Those first few days, when the war against Ozai was won and everyone celebrated, were easy. There wasn’t enough time to mourn, to grieve while they were still taking stock in what winning this war meant for the world and the Fire Nation alike.  The weeks after… They were quite different. People grieved their dead; reparations were politely demanded in the form of political requests. There was political fallout; meeting after meeting with diplomats, council gatherings to discuss how to fix everything their nation had destroyed, and then there was the prospect of his closest friends preparing to leave him. 

 

The twist in his gut was difficult to deal with when Katara argued with Aang that they should stay and help, when she cried because romance was supposed to be easy. He’d even consoled her and talked with Aang, but Aang just didn’t understand why she’d want to stay when they have the whole world to explore.

 

But nights were the worst.  He dreamt, constantly, of atrocities committed against other nations… against him. Oftentimes he’d wake up sweaty and screaming to find Katara sitting quietly at the edge of his bed, with a hand on his arm, and no idea how she knew he needed comforting, let alone got into his room.  “Are you ok?” She asked quietly, her hand sliding down his arm to slip into his. Hers was cool in his. He stared at their hands, heart beating too fast, breathing too quickly. “Zuko.”

 

He snapped his head up, eyes making contact with hers. He was sweating, his hair was matted with it, and he was sure he must look like a caged animal. He felt like one. His mouth was too dry to speak; he opened it and closed it, but nothing came out.

 

“It’s ok,” she said softly. Her free hand reached out slowly, tentatively, and fell between the folds of the robe he’d fallen asleep in. Her fingers touched the star shaped scar and his skin broke out in gooseflesh. “It’s ok.”  But it wasn’t, not really. How could he be ruler of an entire nation when he couldn’t even breathe? When he felt like he was suffocating within the walls of his own bedroom? He could feel himself shaking under her touch.

 

When she made eye contact again his focus narrowed to nothing but her. Brown skin, blue eyes, and soft, dark hair. He jolted, like lightning once more had touched him, when she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. She drew back, and he watched her watch him.

 

“It’s ok, Zuko,” she whispered. This time, when she kissed him, he buried his hands in her hair, moved them to cup her face and kissed her back. Her mouth was warm and sweet, and it was like nothing he’d ever had before. Her cool hands came to rest at the base of his neck, and she moved forward carefully, until she was kneeling over his lap. Her kisses were sweet and smooth, better than he’d imagined they would be, and it was so easy to get lost, to forget that so many other things were wrong and needed fixing.

 

He slid a hand behind her head, tightening his hand in her hair and drew his mouth away from hers slowly. He rested his forehead against hers, noses just touching. She leaned in again, pressing her mouth to his once more, before pulling back. She pushed his shoulders until he realized she wanted him to lie down; he swallowed thickly and let her push him back onto his pillows. His heart was racing again, a wild thing in his chest, as he watched her straddling his hips. She never broke their gaze, even when her fingers, slightly trembling, pulled the tie at her waist and her robe fell open. Zuko felt the heat surge from his belly to his head, staining his chest and neck and cheeks pink.

 

She wore no breast bindings, and she shrugged fluidly out of the thin frock. She tossed it gracefully to the edge of the bed where it slid off, into a puddle of fabric on the floor. Zuko’s hands lay twitching where they rested on her thighs, the heat that built pushed back down, much lower than his belly. His arousal couldn’t be hidden, and he knew she was very aware with where she was sitting, but she didn’t shy away.

 

Instead, she reached for his hand. “Touch me,” she whispered, letting his hand rest on her hip. She stared at him, her eyes a darker blue than he’d seen before, her cheeks flushed with what he hoped was her own arousal. He slid his hands over her hips, up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. “Please, Zuko,” she whispered.

 

He cupped her breasts in his hands, her nipples hard against his palms. It was completely involuntary when his hips rocked. He froze, afraid to have done something wrong that would end this, but she moaned softly. That moment of sweet friction and the soft sound that came from her mouth, they were enough. He grabbed her hips and lifted her off of him, putting her on the bed straddling her. She watched him, bottom lip caught between her teeth. He shrugged out of his robe and threw it to the side. The only thing left between them was his underwear and hers.

 

He bent down and kissed her. This was different, hotter, but not necessarily better. Anything from Katara was good – nothing she gave him could ever be bad. She fisted her hands in his hair and opened her mouth to him, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth. He huffed, air escaping him in a whoosh, so unbelievably turned on by her, because of her. She lifted a leg over his hips and angled hers up; he ground down into her, shuddering at the feeling. Her nails were in his scalp, the back of his neck, his shoulders and when she breathed out his name it was all he could do to have any control at all.

 

He kissed down her neck, the center of her chest and over her belly. He looked up at her through a fringe of hair as he pulled the wrappings she had on. Her breathing quickened, and she sucked on her bottom lip again. He pulled the wrappings off, kissed her hip, her thigh, and trailed his fingers up from the inside of her knee. Her hands were fisted in the sheets.

 

He moved slowly, carefully, letting his fingers wander over, between her legs instead of on them. Her breath hitched, and she bunched the sheets tighter in her fists.

 

“Zuko, please.”

 

He didn’t mind the sparse hair his fingers touched, but the heat… She was so hot inside, so slick and snug. The feel of her around his fingers was enough to threaten to undo him. He moved slowly, waiting for her to adjust or to change her mind if she wanted. She didn’t change her mind, and she did adjust, lifting her hips to match the rhythm of his hand. When he touched his mouth to her, tongue swiping the bundle of nerves, she shuddered so hard it knocked him off of his target. He smiled a little and used his free hand to hold her hips down as he tried again, using his mouth and fingers.

 

She was panting, her legs trembling, and his name was a rushed sigh from her mouth. She twisted this way and that, even raising her hips off the bed, and her whole body shook with the intensity of the pleasure he’d brought to her. She was still trembling when he shifted back up, hovering over her body. She didn’t even hesitate; she kissed him, the taste of her still clinging to his tongue and lips, and shoved at the wrappings he still had on.

 

She parted her legs and let him settle between them.

 

“Katara, I…” he started, and then swallowed hard. There was no one, _no one_ , that made him feel the way that she did. “Are you sure you want this with… with me?”

 

She kissed him softly then, her lips and tongue moving so perfectly with his. Without hesitation, she said “I don’t want this with anyone else.”

 

It was his turn to shake, because she reached down, taking him in her hand and guiding him to where he needed to be. He tipped his hips forward, just a little, and it took his breath away. She was so warm, so slick, and her walls pressed so tight, pulling him in. He sunk into her slowly, carefully when he met resistance, tenderly when he pushed through it. He stayed perfectly still for a few moments, the less he hurt her the better.

 

He moved when she shifted her hips. They both gasped, and she slid her hands back into his hair, a place she seemed to like to keep them, and pulled him to her mouth. They kissed languidly, deeply, and still when she took his lip between her teeth he nearly lost his breath. He drove into her quicker, now, one of her hands gripping his hair a little too tight, and the other leaving wounds in the shapes of her nails in his back. She was moving with him, soft gasps and moans, and he just wanted to get her there one more time.

 

She cried out when he reached between them, his fingers rubbing at her in quick, tight circles. He watched the flush creep up her neck to her face as she shuddered, her breath coming in quick pants, and he felt her clench around him. He quickly unfocused. He threw both hands down on either side of her head, angling his hips, driving into her a little harder than before. He looked for any sign of discomfort from her but she gave none. The coil started at the base of his spine, building through his belly, and he knew.

 

“Katara, I’m – “

 

She lifted both legs over his waist, rocking with him, matching his thrusts and kissed him until his lost his breath. He buckled forward onto her, stammering her name, pressed as deep inside her as he could go, and shuddering.

 

He was careful when they disentangled, worried she might be sore, but she didn’t give any such indication. “Will you stay?” He asked, when she had settled against him, her head on his shoulder and one hand over the star-shaped scar his sister had gifted him with.

 

“I never planned on leaving, Zuko,” she answered.

 

He didn’t ask if she meant the night, or the Fire Nation. He already knew. He kissed her head softly, thinking that maybe, if he had her, he might be able to survive whatever it was that happened after war. The nations knew peace, now, but he didn’t, and maybe, with Katara he’d be able to find a little of that, too.


End file.
